


Harbinger Of

by s0ya



Series: Across the Multiverse [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Buried Alive, Canon-Typical Violence, Dimension Travel, Gen, Gotham City - Freeform, Gotham Has A Lot Of Mildly Spooky And Magical Shit, Hand wavy science, Immortal Characters, Magic, More like they can't die?, Multi, Parallel Universes, Semi violent deaths, Temporary Amnesia, ish, warnings at the beginning of each chapter so heed them!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27845738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0ya/pseuds/s0ya
Summary: Talia could taste blood in the air, so thick, so thin. Her tongue would roll around her mouth, her ears listening to some heartbeat in New York, thrumming away.When she came to Gotham, she came to get answers. Answers that would finally let her piece together her identity, her fragmented memory. She was incomplete.So damn incomplete.But right now, she’s just trying to survive and learn as much as she can without the help of the infamous Bats and Birds of Gotham. Though, it’s a little hard when a random man’s head explodes right in front of her; then, her breaking out of a grave that one time. Yeah. It's just alittlehard.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Series: Across the Multiverse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038342
Kudos: 5





	Harbinger Of

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the first chapter, it's pretty slow in the beginning but picks up speed as the chapters go on! Heed the warnings, as always!
> 
> Warnings! Sort of graphic description of gore, references to child prostitution (like a couple of sentences really), strong language, overuse of italics, shitty grammar, and spelling!

**GOTHAM,** a dark and dreary city. Forever blanketed by dark clouds, it seemed as if the sun itself was unwilling to shine its light upon the city. With gargoyles perched on the ledges of buildings, the overall gothic structure and aesthetic of the city, accompanied by the city’s notorious underworld, so fierce and unyielding, it would seem anyone sane enough would choose _not_ to live here.

However, Talia (the name Talia gave herself), isn’t very sane. Smart, yes, but sane? _Ha!_ This is Gotham, who is sane in such a city like this? A city filled with criminals with a penchant is wreck havoc and overall chaos, while dressed in that Certain Aesthetic™️. Some of Gotham’s Rogues seem more than willing to kill, to poison the city’s water, the city’s already polluted air. So willing to prove a _point_. Some notably insane, and all (except Joker, because, this is the _Joker._ He doesn’t _need_ a tragic backstory) with some sort of tragic backstory that led them to become apart of Gotham’s infamous Rogue’s Gallery.

Even with Gotham’s notable and obvious evils, there are some that still grow underneath all the rot and decay. An evil that seems so perpetual, like cockroaches that seem to always come back no matter what type of poison you use against it. A type of evil that plagues the less fortunate of Gotham. An evil that seems too deeply entrenched it seems nothing will be able to get rid of it all (aside from burning it all down and starting up again). But, there is a glimmer of hope in the dark corners, rooftops, and alleyways (occasional sewers) of Gotham.

The ever-growing Bat Clan (as Talia dubbed it, because, the whole _“Batman works alone”_ is a steaming pile of horse shit) seem to be the ones at the front lines against this persistent, and oh so deeply entrenched evil that festers within the city. The Vigilantes of Gotham don’t just punch the Rogues ‘till they fall, but actively destroy gangs from the inside. Weeding out the corruption as best as they can.

Though, Talia ponders if they can truly help Gotham and her people. If they can cure this sickness that plagues her.

She leans against the brick wall, her eyes continuously scanning her surroundings. Making note of every object she could use as a weapon (if need be), of every escape route available to her, to every sliver of darkness she could use (hey, if the Bats could, what’s stopping her?).

_Maybe._ Talia thinks, listening to the distance sirens, run of engines, and distance clutter of voices about twenty blocks from where she was. She smiled slightly, _after all, they are the Bats._

But, a thought gnawed at the back of Talia’s head. _If they could weed out so much corruption, then why are you working the corner? Selling your body just to survive Gotham’s harsh streets? Just a child._ Hissed a part of her. Talia frowned, her tongue rolling around her cheek. She knew that they could only do so much. But… _is that an excuse for so many to turn to less than legal means of survival? When they are fertilizer for the growing corruption and evil but what else can they do? What else could_ you _do?_

Talia simply sighed. She knew that her situation was less than… _ordinary._ How she came to Gotham then decided to _stay_ was a sort of luxury that she had the privilege of having. She knew there were many who could only wish to leave the accursed city and all its damned gargoyles. But, there was a reason she was here. Even though she doesn’t exactly _know_ what they are.

This gut feeling, this deeper understanding of knowing that there were answers that Gotham could only provide. Her questions such as: _what exactly happened before I lost most of my memories? Who am I? Who was I before I came here, in this body? And also, am I as human as I thought?_

Talia knew, that most people don’t usually have an uncanny sense of smell, or the ability to hear as at _least_ five miles away, or the strength to lift five tons (or more, Talia wasn’t exactly sure yet). She knew most people didn’t have the knowledge about the various types of poisons, ways to kill someone quickly and efficiently without spilling much blood, the knowledge of languages that Talia was sure that didn’t _exist_ in this world. Talia was sure most people didn’t know various forms of fighting. But, what Talia knew was that, well, _she wasn’t exactly like other people, now was she?_

Even with a myriad of questions that swam in her head, Talia knew that, sooner or later, they’ll be answered. But, right now, Talia was more worried about getting her next meal and working towards the next step in her plans. Even if it’s been at least four months since she’s first to come to Gotham, and around five months in total when she first realized she came to this world. She knew that this world wasn’t the one she came from, but this body— _her body,_ was the exact same (excluding some rather important details of course, that Talia had no clue of what they were) as the one before. But, this— _her_ body was younger. _Much_ younger than her previous body. Talia wasn’t sure exactly how much younger, but enough that Talia considered her body’s age just _minuscule_ to her previous (original?) age.

Talia concluded that she recently turned 14, which in hindsight— _was so damn young._ So much so she found herself, at times, feeling as if this body wasn’t _hers._ But, it was. The moment Talia came to this body, it became _her’s_ and no one else’s.

Talia snorted. _How ironic._

A beat-up, red car soon came around the corner. Talia sighed, slowly approaching the car. _Well, I need dinner and some more supplies._ She thought, knowing the night had _just_ begun. It was only 1:30 A.M. and Talia had ample time to scrounge up some more money.

But, she could think more about her financial and overall situation later. Now, it was time to work. _The night is young, after all._

* * *

 **THE NIGHT,** had Talia thought, was _not_ young as she originally thought. At first, it was going like any other. She, would work the corner, her senses on overdrive, her routes clear cut and planned (though erratic to others) as to avoid certain areas (those infested with gangs that are fickle and that do _not_ pay their due). This night was like any other for her, up until the point it _wasn’t._

Just earlier, Talia had been with another _customer_ that wasn’t her usual clientele. This man, clearly was much more well-off than most of her other _customers_ as to when she first saw his _very expensive_ and _very new_ car drive down the more unsavory part of Gotham she knew that she could likely score more than she would usually. But, even with the thought of earning more, Talia kept her guard up. This won’t be the first time a wealthy man would approach Talia for her _services._ Sometimes these men (and occasional women) weren’t exactly what she thought they were.

There were more than a few occasions that Talia could’ve been nabbed and shipped off somewhere else for _other_ purposes. Talia shuddered at the thought. There were more than a few occasions in which she could’ve lost her life or at least have made enemies with those she could not _afford_ to be enemies. Her paranoia kept her alive, and it’ll keep her alive as long as she stays in Gotham.

But, no matter how on guard or how much Talia analyzed the situation, nothing and Talia means _nothing_ at all pointed to this man’s ( _Thomas-Something)_ head spontaneously exploding in front of Talia.

Nothing prepared Talia to expect _this_ to happen. However, Talia noticed how she wasn’t panicking. Or how she hasn’t fainted when the weight of the situation had set in. Instead, she stood above the man’s mangled and decrepit body, her eyes filled with indifference.

There was this sense of _nostalgia_ of all things. This strange and morbid familiarity encompassed Talia. _Huh._

Talia could visit the possibility of something in her fragmented memories explaining all this. But right now, Talia had to make a decision.

She could call the GCPD or alert the Bat Clan in some form. However, since she would be the first person to report this, she would be under _heavy_ scrutiny. Not to mention, Talia doesn’t have a paper trail (she was _sure_ of this) meaning, Talia ran the risk of being _deported._ Not to mention, even if she had some sort of paper trail, she’d be flung into Gotham’s _stellar_ foster care system. That’s the _last_ thing Talia wanted.

However, there was another option. _Not reporting it_. Well, with Talia being the first person at the scene. She could tip off the GCPD later. But, reporting would entail that Talia would have to fly under the radar, making sure no nosy Bats catch her tail. _Not yet, at least_. Talia knew the time wasn’t right. She still needed to find out more about herself and well, _so much more._ But, even with that, Talia had this sinking feeling of _dread_ in the pit of her stomach. Something told Talia that this man’s untimely death wasn’t as random as she hoped it would be.

Regardless of the possible implication that _Talia_ could be, in some way or form, involved (directly or indirectly) with this situation did _not_ sit well with her. Talia chewed on her bottom lip, tasting the familiar metallic taste of blood (blood that was _not_ Talia’s). She _could_ report this, and accelerate her plans _but—_ she didn’t have enough information regarding herself and her memories. There were still too many unanswered questions that she needed answers to before she could approach the Bats. If she goes in, with still so many questions unanswered, she runs the risk of not having their complete trust as well as not having a clear picture of exactly _what_ happened and _why_ this all happened.

Plus, Talia intended to find out the Bat's secret identities. It would allow her to plan out some more contingencies for herself (and them, of course). _Better to be over-prepared than not at all._ She thought, _but, before all of that, I have clean off all this damned blood. Fuck, it’s on my shirt too!_ Talia scowled. _Damn this night. First, some John’s head_ explodes _in front of me, without much warning—aside from that weird-ass pulsing—now my fucking shirt is stained. Shit. I’ll have to climb out through the fire escape and avoid any cameras. Good thing that John avoided most of the cameras and I kept my head down. I won’t need to worry about the Bats figuring out who exactly I am._

Talia pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing at the mangled body beneath her. She made her decision. First, she needs to clean herself up and wash away any blood. Second, she goes through this John's closet for some clothing. Plus, lifting some of his cash too (for all the trouble of dealing with _this_ ).

Talia made sure her shoes didn’t track any blood, she didn’t need to give any extra clues that a _second_ person was also present. She quickly made her way to the bathroom—which was surprisingly clean—and quickly stripped down. She placed her blood-stained and pants ( _thank goodness that her pants weren’t as nearly as stained as the shirt_ ) on the towel rack. She quickly entered the shower, turning on the hot water, washing off the blood on her face and hands. Thankfully, this John had some shampoo and conditioner ( _it’s been damned too long since I’ve had a good, hot shower_ ).

Talia didn’t want to take _too_ long, but _damn_ did she want to stay for an extra couple of minutes. To ease her tightly wound muscles, to scrub off the dirt and grime of Gotham, to feel _clean_ for once. Gotham made her dirty, made her do things she had to do simply because she needed to _survive._ But, for the sake of self-preservation, Talia knew that getting a little _dirty_ was necessary (no matter how much she _despised_ it).

After furiously scrubbing her body and hair, Talia stepped out of the shower, making sure all evidence of her being here was thoroughly erased. The steam on the mirror was wiped away, the overall warm temperature of the bathroom slowly decreased as she opened one of the small windows in the bathroom. She, using a piece of toilet paper, carefully wiped down the shower handles, shampoo and conditioner bottles, and any area she might have touched (hell, she even wiped down the _floor_ ). Talia even found an antiseptic spray and sprayed down the carpet that she stood on (no way in _hell_ was she going to leave _anything_ behind).

She quickly took her clothes, knowing that she won’t be able to wear her blood-stained shirt (one of her _good_ shirts too, _damn it_ ). So, she quickly put on her jeans, which thankfully had minimal blood that won’t be too noticeable if she wore something big and baggy.

After quickly spraying the bathroom with the antiseptic spray and carefully making her way out, she spotted a door down the hallway. Talia paused, thinking if it would be a good idea to rifle her way through the closet. She has a greater chance of someone getting ahold of her DNA and noticing that there was a _second_ person also present during the time of this John’s untimely death.

She shrugged, _fuck it. I need supplies and whose gonna notice a couple of missing things? Definitely not that John._ Talia snorted, carefully making her way towards the closet. She nabbed some extra toilet paper, layered it together as to not leave any prints or DNA. She carefully opened the door, noticing that this was a supply closet. _Score!_

Even in the darkness, Talia had great eyesight, and if she concentrated hard enough, she essentially could see in the dark (though, her eyes become _annoyingly_ sensitive to light).

Inside the closet, Talia noted there was a box of plastic surgical gloves. Talia smirked, _damn, this night might have not been so bad after all._ Quickly and carefully, Talia nabbed a couple of gloves, while putting on a pair for herself. It would save some the antiseptic spray and would allow for Talia to not leave her prints _and_ DNA.

After scanning through the closet some more, Talia decided it would better to just take some more gloves. If she had her backpack, she could’ve nabbed some soap and other supplies. Tonight, it would be _way_ too risky for her to take these supplies.

After that, Talia went to the John’s bedroom, noting how the curtains were drawn, with just a sliver of light coming through. Talia stuck to the shadows, her footsteps light and controlled. She didn’t want to make more noise than necessary. Talia already considered herself lucky enough that no one had come and knocked on the door. _Probably sleeping and also knowing this is Gotham. Better to worry about it in the morning._

She then found another closet in the room, carefully opening it, while still being aware of her surroundings. She had her back turned, and even though it was just her and the John’s mangled body, it never hurts to be on guard.

Looking through the closet, Talia found some clothes that would certainly fit her. Like clothes from an old partner or clothes, this John couldn’t be bothered to throw away. Either way, it worked in her favor. She grabbed one of the smaller hoodies, an old grey NASA hoodie. It would fit well enough, and keep her warm at night.

She quickly put in the hoodie, her blood-stained shirt still in hand (yes, she was wandering around half-naked, so what?). Talia spotted some extra socks, and took them, stuffing them inside the hoodie's deep pockets.

After thoroughly rifling through the closet, Talia made sure everything was in the same order as they were before. Making it seem as if no one had thoroughly raised the closet beforehand.

Talia had sprayed the closet down with the antiseptic ( _better safe than sorry_ ), slowly closing the closet door. She gave a once over, making sure that the bedroom remained the exact state it was before.

With feather-like steps, Talia made her way back into the living room, making sure to avoid the pools of blood underneath the mangled John. Her nose scrunched up. _Disgusting. I never did like AB neg’ blood, not to mention how high his blood alcohol is. Seriously, I’m surprised I haven’t found any bottles laying around. Probably doesn’t want anyone to know he has a drinking problem._

Talia shook her head, she didn’t care about this John’s drinking habits. She had to leave as quickly as possible while avoiding any trouble on the way back to her, well, it definitely wasn’t _home_ , but a place to stay.

As she gracefully side-stepped the body and pools of blood, Talia then remembered that this John had a rather thick wallet in his left back pocket. And, she was currently on his left side.

She rolled her tongue across her cheeks, wondering if she risks trying to get some cash from him. It would be better to just, leave now and get on with it. But… _I could use the extra cash, and it’s not like he’ll notice. But, others will… Fuck._

Talia crouched down, her teeth digging into her bottom lip, her eyebrows scrunched together. Would it be worth it? Talia knows this John carried a good amount of cash, she had seen a bit earlier. If she was careful about it, she could definitely take his wallet out, take whatever amount of cash he had, then carefully place his wallet back.

 _Fuck it._ Talia thought, waddling closer to the body. She kept her feet planted on the ground, her arms extended towards the body. One hand on his hip, the other trailing down to his back pocket. Talia, at this moment, was immensely grateful for her strength, but she kept in mind that moving his hip upward would also move his— _whatever was left—_ head. Moving his mangled (nonexistent) head would disturb the pools of blood.

Talia held her breath, carefully moving the John’s hip upward, her eyes darting between his hip and the pools of blood. Her heart hammered against her rib cage. But, slowly and surely enough, she moved his hip enough so that she could easily access his wallet. With her free hand, Talia carefully took out the John’s wallet.

It was a hefty thing, dark brown leather, and slightly worn at the corners. There were some miscellaneous papers sticking out, likely old receipts or business cards. She set the wallet down, away from the body. Now that she took it out, she had to slowly set the body down.

Like before, Talia was keenly aware of how the pools of blood moved, as she guided the body ( _slowly_ ) down. Her grip was ironclad, and it would most _definitely_ leave some sort of a bruise.

 _Fuck, I completely forgot about that._ Talia scowled, grinding her teeth. _Too late, I’ll get what I came for. No point in stopping when I’ve come this far._

Soon, she set the body completely down, retracting her hand from the John’s hip. Talia exhaled, her mouth dry, her heart still hammering against her rib cage. She could feel the sweat building upon her forehead.

Still crouching down, she quickly grabbed the hefty wallet. Opening it, Talia saw a ludicrous amount of cash. All the bills were in 20s, with the occasional 5s and 10s. Talia quickly counted, noting there were around 140 or so.

 _It would be unwise to take everything,_ Talia thought, taking a handful of twenties and some of the smaller bills. She left a considerable amount left in the wallet, around $60.

Talia then quickly folded the bills, then stuffing them in her hoodie pockets. After that, she extended the same hand as before, gripping the man’s hip, beginning the process again, this time to put his wallet back in his back pocket.

Talia kept her breathing slow, and deep, making sure it was almost nonexistent. Using her other free hand, she took the wallet, her hand slightly trembling.

She slipped the wallet back into the John’s pocket, with a bit of struggle but she managed to place the wallet back into his pocket. Talia felt a wave of relief, now all she had to do was slowly place this John’s body down. Then, she would make her way to the bedroom, where the fire escape was located—

A set of thunderous footsteps could be heard, as they quickly approached the apartment door. Talia immediately stiffens, her face pale as a sheet of paper.

Talia snapped her eyes towards the apartment door, her ears keenly focused on the heavy footsteps, that were quickly approaching. Her heart thrummed against her ears, her mouth dry as the Sahara. Her legs started to slight tremble, from crouching so long, but Talia didn’t _dare_ to even breathe.

The John’s body was luckily facing away from the door. The pools of blood were also out of view if anyone decided to look under the slight crack underneath the door.

 _Don’t come here. Don’t come here. Don’t come here. Don’t come here. Don’t come here._ Talia repeated the phrase like a mantra, hoping that she had some sort of psychic-persuasion-power-thingy. She prayed to any deity out there, to listen to hear her plea. _Don’t come here._

Talia’s eyes trained on the small crack underneath the door. The heavy footsteps momentarily stopped in front of the apartment door. Talia's eyes slightly widen, her breath nonexistent, her heart drumming against her ears, as beads of sweat slowly trailed down the side of her face. _Don’t come here,_ please.

Then _,_ the shadow of those footsteps began to move again, they turned around, walking away from the apartment door.

Talia didn’t dare move, her ears still trained on those footsteps, making sure that whoever this person was, that they were long gone.

After this person was at least five blocks away from the apartment building, did Talia breath.

Her first exhale was shaky, her knees on the verge of collapsing from crouching for so long. Her heart still thrummed against her ears. Adrenaline still buzzing in her veins. Talia shot upward, not caring how sore her legs were. She quickly side-stepped the body, her steps light as a feather, but quick as an arrow.

She needed to leave. _Now._

Talia didn’t want to test her luck any longer. She darted towards the bedroom, making sure the floorboards didn’t creak.

With her heart still hammering against her ears, her breaths shallow and quick, Talia quickly opened the window. A gust of cool wind hit Talia’s hot face, as more beads of sweat trailed down her face. Talia quickly boosted herself up, thanking whatever deities out there for making sure it was raining tonight. She didn’t want to leave with Gotham’s classic rainstorms. She _couldn’t_.

When her feet landed on the familiar metal platform, Talia quickly spun her heels, her hands desperately clawing at the window. For a couple of seconds, she couldn’t get ahold of the window. There was this building fear if she couldn’t close this window, one of the Bats would catch her in the act, and then _everything_ would fall apart. Panic slowly builds up in the pit of your stomach, but, finally, Talia gets a grip on the open window. Without much regard, if anyone hears her, Talia slammed the window closed.

For a couple of seconds, she stared at the closed window, taking in shaky breaths. She was still crouching down, facing the closed window. She could see a sliver of light from underneath the closed bedroom door.

Talia closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. She didn’t care if someone saw her or heard her, right now, this overwhelming sense of utter _relief_ encompassed her. She wasn’t caught, no one came in the apartment, and she made sure that any evidence of her was thoroughly wiped (aside from the bruise that was likely forming on the John’s hip).

She stayed, crouching down, staring at the closed window. She took in a deep breath, Gotham’s thick and polluted air comforted her slightly. The night was windy and cool, and luckily for Talia, she was able to grab a nice and comfy hoodie. She had everything she needed in her hoodie pockets. That antiseptic spray, a handful of plastic gloves, a good amount of cash, and her bloodied shirt that was nice and tightly wrapped into a ball. Talia knew she would have to dispose of the bloodied shirt somewhere. Holding onto it would be too risky if she wanted to fly under the Bat's radar for a few weeks.

Ideally, she could want to burn the shirt and dispose of the ashes elsewhere but she didn’t have any sort of flammable fluid and her lighter wasn’t on her right now. The best course of action for her night now was to dispose of the shirt somewhere the Bats or anyone else could find.

With that in mind, Talia slowly started to stand up. Her knees and calves ached but it didn’t matter, she had to go. She turned around, quickly scanning the fire escape, knowing she was only on the third floor. She could jump from this height, with relative ease, and the alleyway beneath her was clear and big enough. But, she’d rather not make that much noise. Just a couple of minutes ago, she slammed just the window, and _someone_ might have heard it. She didn’t want to attract anyone’s attention or leave any evidence of her being here.

Talia instead opted to go down the fire escape stairwell. She could see none of the lights for the other windows were on. _Good, I don’t need anyone else to see me._

Going down the fire escape was easy enough, she kept her footsteps light, her eyes and ears on overdrive taking note of _any_ sounds that either came from her or somewhere else. She kept her breathing steady but low, going down the steps slowly but not so slow that she could get caught. The shadows also provided much comfort for her, as there was barely any light from where Talia was. The street that was at the end of the alleyway did have its lamppost on, but they were far enough away from the fire escape that no one could tell that someone was climbing down.

When she finally reached the last level, she hoisted herself up the railing, peering down at the alleyway ground. It was concrete but not that high up where Talia could severely hurt herself. So, with her back pressed against the railing, her hands curled around the railing, and her feet still planted on the platform, Talia took in a deep breath.

 _I’m so sorry, my poor ankles._ With that thought in mind, Talia jumped forward. Her arms slightly flailed around before coming into contact with the touch, concrete floor. When she finally reaches the ground, she was in a sort of crouching position, with her hands on the ground.

A shot of pain flared up in her ankles, her hands burned at the rough contact. Talia bit down a hiss of pain, she squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on her breathing. For a few moments, she stayed in the same position, as the pain began to subside.

Talia took in a sharp breath, before pushing herself back upright. She couldn’t dwell in the alleyway forever, she had to _move._ She already caused a good deal of noise when she jumped down from the fire escape and, in the far off distance, she could hear the familiar whine of a grappling gun, with light and quick footsteps on rooftops. One of the Bats was definitely nearby, and it was only around 3 A.M.

With that in mind, Talia took off her used gloves, stuffing them in jean pockets, while putting up her hoodie. She hunched her shoulders, and kept her head down, as she made her way out of the alleyway.

She didn’t intend to stick around this part of Gotham, no matter how safe it is compared to other places. She didn’t need anyone to see her and get potentially stopped by the GCPD and she intended to keep on avoiding them for as long as possible. The GCPD may be corrupt, but some of the newer recruits were more inclined to do their job _correctly._

Not to mention, there was a Bat nearby. Talia doesn’t intend to catch their attention. _Not yet, at least._

With a sigh, Talia trekked onward. She stuck to the shadows, making note of her surroundings, making sure she seemed as small and unthreatening as possible. She also scanned for places to dispose of her used gloves and the blood-stained shirt.

Eventually, she came across a small roadside trash can where she tossed the gloves. Then, after crossing various streets, turning various corners, Talia found a dumpster in a rather dilapidated alleyway. She carefully stalked towards the dumpster, her hand firmly gripping the balled-up shirt. She carefully opened one of the lids of the dumpster, enough so she could push the balled-up shirt through the crack. Talia presses the tightly wound ball of a shirt through the small crack. Then, she slowly lowered the lid, her ears focusing on any footsteps, murmurings, or whatever noise that was coming near or was near this alleyway.

After successfully closing the lid and doing a once over on the alleyway she was in, Talia darted out of the alleyway. Another wave of relief crashed over her, as she ran towards her temporary home.

 _God, I want this damned night to end._ Talia thought as she rounded the corner.


End file.
